


You send me, honest you do

by MadHatter13



Category: The House in the Cerulean Sea - T. J. Klune
Genre: Bad Puns, Birthday, Communication, Cooking, Dad Jokes, Dancing, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Sex, Literal Sleeping Together, Lucy being a gremlin, M/M, body image issues, good parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29498043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadHatter13/pseuds/MadHatter13
Summary: Mr. Linus Baker‘s life ended precisely four weeks, six days, eleven hours and eighteen minutes ago.That is to say, his old life. His new life began at that same moment, when he stepped out DICOMY‘s offices and onto a train platform. He sometimes feels quite at sea, since the amount of time he has spent living his new life is so out of balance with all the years he lived out his old one.-Or, life on Marsyas Island through the lens of three everyday activities: Eating, sleeping and dancing.
Relationships: Linus Baker/Arthur Parnassus
Comments: 24
Kudos: 65





	You send me, honest you do

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains discussion of body image issues, internalized fatshaming and disordered eating. If that is something you have difficulty with, take care of yourself. If you wish to read the fic anyway but skip the section that discusses that the most explicitly, skip from the section that starts "Meals could be strained sometimes" until the next line break.  
> Title from Sam Cook's "You send me."

Mr. Linus Baker‘s life ended precisely four weeks, six days, eleven hours and eighteen minutes ago.

That is to say, his _old_ life. His _new_ life began at that same moment, when he stepped out DICOMY‘s offices and onto a train platform. He sometimes feels quite at sea, since the amount of time he has spent living his new life is so out of balance with all the years he lived out his old one. Perhaps, he worries occasionally that he‘ll feel this way right up until his new life has clocked up to just over forty years. Or perhaps only seventeen or so, if he‘s lucky.

Of course, the children don‘t leave him much time to ruminate on any of that. After all, it is the beginning of November, and something remarkable will soon happen. Soon, one of them will celebrate their birthday on Marsyas Island for the first time.

They wouldn‘t have known Sal was turning fifteen soon, if they had waited for the boy to bring it up himself. No, it was because of Linus, actually. He had seen it in Sal‘s file, and it had never quite left his memory. It had been one of the many regrets that had bumped around in his mind before he had worked up the courage to go back: The fact that he would miss Sal‘s birthday.

Over dinner, the other children waxed lyrical to Sal about how birthdays were conducted on Marsyas Island.

‘You get to decide what we do, for an entire day!’ Exclaimed Lucy. ‘When it was Talia’s, we had to help her in the garden in the morning, and then we played grave robbers afterwards!’

‘And we all made her cake!’ Crowed Chauncy. ‘I’m still waiting for my birthday, but that’s okay because then I have time to plan it all out!’

‘Arthur says I have to ask permission for my plans before my next birthday,’ said Lucy, and his eyes glowed red. ‘Except he keeps vetoing my ideas.’

‘You already made the sea disappear once, Lucy, and it turned out not to be as much fun as you thought,’ said Arthur levelly.

‘I knoooow, but what about subjugating the entire world under my iron fist? Just for a day!’

‘We don’t subjugate our fellow people,’ Linus said automatically. ‘That would be rude.’ When had _that_ become his natural response to Lucy’s world-dominating suggestions? But it was effective, that was clear enough.

Lucy sighed hugely.

‘What about your birthday, Phee?’ Linus asked, remembering that hers would have been two months before he first arrived.

‘We went to the beach,’ she said. ‘And I made a sand castle bigger than Arthur.’

‘It had battlements _and_ cannons,’ Zoe recalled. ‘And all that without being able to control sand, either.’

‘I used beach grass for scaffolding,’ Phee confided to Linus in a whisper.

‘Any ideas how you want your birthday to go, Sal?’ Asked Arthur.

‘Um.’ Sal hesitated. ‘Can I think about it?’

‘Of course,’ said Linus. ‘You have a week to decide, after all.’

‘I’ve never had a proper birthday before,’ Sal admitted to him later when they were doing the dishes together, Linus washing and Sal drying. ‘Or not since I can remember. Maybe when I was little, before all the orphanages.’

Linus flipped internally through several possible responses – half of them on the note that he wished he could take a lawn chair to every adult who ever neglected this boy. He settled for, ‘I haven’t had one in years. I was always by myself and didn’t think it was important. My mother would really only give me socks, when she was alive.’

‘I’m not sure how I feel about them,’ said Sal. ‘It seems, um, kind of daunting. To have everyone paying attention to you for an entire day.’

‘I suppose it can be,’ said Linus. ‘But remember, it’s up to _you_ how you spend it. Even if you wanted to spend it all by yourself, that would be okay. But I think everyone wants to celebrate with you. I know I do.’

Sal didn’t say anything, but leaned against Linus’s side briefly, before finishing off the last of the dishes. Linus’ heart swelled, and he tried in vain to contain his smile.

* * *

He had gone back to the city for a short spell to put his house up for sale and to retrieve what he cared for. That had been little else than his records and the Victrola, his armchair, and his favorite cast iron skillet. Well, you wouldn‘t just leave one of those behind; they were expensive. He’d had it properly seasoned and everything. The rest, he’d put into storage. He had only overnighted, to sign some paperwork and pay for his things to be sent to Marsyas. Lucy had threatened him with his organs turning inside-out, and how Talia had hugged his leg and muttered that she would track him down and brain him with her shovel if he didn‘t come back. That had dissuaded him from staying much longer. And, he thought in the privacy of his old bed that night, the way Arthur had kissed him before he got on the ferry.

The movers had taken their sweet time; he had almost forgotten that he was expecting anything to arrive. That is, until Zoe rang him while she was in town picking up groceries. She demanded he take the van on the salt road to come pick up his stuff.

He had (albeit gripping the steering wheel white-knuckled as the sea splashed around him). And then the children had helped him carry it all into the cottage, where he was (still) staying. Lucy had, of course, _completely_ lost his mind over the crates and crates of vinyl records.

‘Frank Sinatra? I don’t think I have any of his records!’ The boy exclaimed, sitting on the floor of the cottage, holding the sleeve aloft. He didn’t, Linus knew. He’d been beginning to miss the sound of Old Blue Eyes. ‘Can we listen to it now? No wait – we HAVE to listen to it now! This is a musical emergency!’

‘Perhaps tomorrow,’ Linus said. ‘After all, it’s very nearly dinner. And Zoe said something about a movie night?’ He of course knew all about the movie night in advance. But it was easier to distract the children when he didn’t make it too obvious. Luckily, Lucy relented – for now.

Phee and Sal and Chauncy were pushing the heavy armchair to a new spot yet again. This was because Talia kept inspecting its location critically and then telling them to move it somewhere else entirely. The floor would be scratched all over if not for the fact that they’d put it on top of a rug to make it easier to move. ‘Mm, no, that’s not right at all,’ she said. ‘Better move it three feet to the left.

Phee groaned and slumped against the chair. ‘Why does it matter? Shouldn’t we be moving it to the big house?’

‘Yeah!’ Warbled Chauncy. ‘Shouldn’t Linus have a room there instead of here? He lives her now!’

Theodore, who was nosing through the record crates with Lucy (perhaps in case there happened to be a button in there somewhere), chirped. Talia nodded. ‘Theodore is right! Shouldn’t Linus stay in Arthur’s room? That’s what adults that smooch all the time do, anyway.’

Linus was already blushing, but it was nothing compared to when Lucy said, ‘That’s not the only kind of thing adults who smooch do.’

‘Lucy!’ Linus said sharply.

Lucy looked up at him, his gaze so angelic that it went right through to being absolutely demonic. ‘They would have found out about filing joint taxes sooner or later, _Mr. Baker_.’ His smirk only widened when Linus looked away and cleared his throat.

_Thankfully_ , there was the sound of Zoe calling to them across the garden to come help with dinner. The subsequent movie (The Good, The Bad and the Ugly, apparently it had been Theodore’s turn to pick) had the children playing cowboys up and down the stairs. They shot at each other with finger guns and enacted increasingly dramatic deaths and claimed they were going to stay up all night long. They lasted exactly twenty-four minutes before they were all yawning until they had tears in their eyes. It was after all well past their bed time.

Arthur went to usher them off to bed, while Zoe and Linus picked up around the living room and kitchen. Linus thought he probably left Zoe with the lion’s share of the tidying – but he simply couldn’t wait any longer. Just _knowing_ his records were waiting for him was more than he could bear. Although the movie had been very enjoyable, especially with Arthur pressed next to him on the couch.

He did take the time to take his shoes and his coat off as he entered the cottage, and to flick the lights on as he entered. But then he went straight to the first crate and picked the very first record he could get his hands on. The needle hit the vinyl, the speaker crackled to life, and Solomon Burke’s voice broke the silence, singing, don’t you feel like crying? Come on, cry to me.

Linus really didn’t, especially with the way his heart swelled, and music seemed to work itself into his veins from the ears downwards. And Linus Baker danced like he hadn’t in a long time – danced, in fact, like nobody was watching, because nobody was.

There are ways, and ways of dancing. There is the kind of dancing where you are dancing in front of an audience and trying to impress – or at least to not completely embarrass yourself. There is dancing _with_ someone; either for the previous reason, or out of social courtesy, or tradition, or as an excuse to get closer. And there is dancing alone, purely because you would rather break your legs than resist the urge to do so at that very moment. Whether it is out of happiness or frustration or excitement, only some people can manage dancing alone in front of others. This may seem like an oxymoron, but it is simply the ability to dance purely for your own enjoyment and without feeling naggingly _seen_. Linus Baker did not have that ability. The ways in which he felt self-conscious about pretty much every aspect of his body probably did not help matters.

But oh, how he had missed this. He hadn’t done it after he had left Marsyas the first time. Frankly he’d been too depressed. And, then, too determined to see through his plan, to spend time on it. And for the aforementioned reasons, he hadn’t danced alone during his stay on Marsyas Island either. But now he danced, putting his entire heart and considerable soul into it, because he couldn’t _not_.

Which meant he got the scare of his life when the song ended and a final step and flourish happened to point him towards the doorway, to find Arthur Parnassus there watching him. The noise he made did not bear commenting on, and neither did the way he nearly jumped into the rafters.

‘Arthur!’ He cleared his throat, trying to force his voice at least several octaves down to normalcy. ‘You startled me!’ He hurriedly took the needle off the record, and the music stopped.

Arthur, for his part, very clearly hid a laugh. ‘I went downstairs to say good night to you,’ he said. ‘But you weren’t there, and then I noticed the music through your window.’ He was, indeed, dressed for sleep; shorts and a t-shirt, as usual, and a pair of slippers.

Linus opened his mouth to say something smooth, no doubt, but what came out was, ‘It’s November, you manic! You’ll catch a cold!’

Arthur only shrugged. ‘It’s not that cold.’ What he meant was, _he_ wasn’t that cold. Marsyas Island may have been warmer than the city, but not so much that it was perfectly acceptable to wear shorts outdoors in November. Arthur simply seemed to keep warm much easier than most people. Which, given who he was, wasn’t too surprising.

Arthur pushed off the door jamb, and sauntered over to the boxes. ‘I see your records arrived.’

‘Er, yes,’ said Linus, and thought “ _Er, yes”? Really, Linus?_ ‘I think I’ll go through them all with Lucy tomorrow.’

‘I do like Sam Cooke,’ Arthur said, pulling out a record sleeve from a crate. ‘Mind if I put this on?’ Linus shook his head mutely, unable to take his eyes off him.

Arthur did, carefully putting aside Solomon Burke. And as the speaker crackled to life again, Mister Cooke started telling them about a place, somewhere up the New York way, where the people are so gay, twisting the night away.

And Arthur looked up at him with a gleam in his eye and said, ‘Do you like to dance?’ The echo of his voice bringing to mind a time when they had. And a time when they hadn’t, in this very house.

‘I – ‘ Linus cleared his throat. ‘I think I might have two left feet, to be honest.’

‘That did not seem to be the case before,’ said Arthur. ‘Come on, Linus. For me?’

Well, how was he going to say no to _that_? But he might have, if it hadn’t been so long since he had danced. If his blood hadn’t been fizzing with it. Swaying together was one thing, but it wasn’t really proper dancing, where you flailed and got sweaty and always looked a bit ridiculous. And so, according to the music, he danced. Stiffly, envying and admiring the way Arthur, too, began to twist as the music demanded, apparently without a care in the world. But then Arthur took his hands, and they twisted together, and Linus’ shoulders started to loosen up just as Sam sang about a fella in blue jeans, dancing with an older queen.

‘I guess we make for two older queens instead,’ Arthur murmured just loud enough to be heard over the music, and Linus laughed, entirely genuinely.

They danced through the entire song. And the next, about being in an awful way on a Saturday night, where Linus had the nerve to twirl his partner, and Arthur smiled the entire time in a way that was so infectious. And the third song, where Sam sung about an infatuation that had lasted so long. That song had been on the strange record Lucy had given him, along with others that Linus knew for sure had never been pressed on the same vinyl. For the first time, it occurred to Linus that Lucy may have been trying to set them up, that night. The idea was mildly terrifying. But by then he had his arms around Arthur’s neck, and well, his attention was occupied. For some reason, though, his eye caught on the armchair, sitting askance in the corner, and the day’s earlier conversation surrounding it rushed back into his head. He tried not to groan in dismay, and mostly succeeds.

Arthur, of course, remained terrifyingly perceptive. ‘Say, you wouldn’t happen to know why the children admonished me for not knowing where you keep your toothbrush?’

Linus was snapped back into the here and now. ‘Come again?’

‘Well, really it was Theodore, although Talia and Phee seemed to agree. It took some digging to understand what they were getting at, but they seemed to be under the impression that you had been banished to the cottage.’

Linus blinked. ‘Oh. _Oh._ ’

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Care to share?’

Of course, Arthur _knew_ what was up, but the point – well, the _point_ was that they hadn’t talked about it yet. After he came back, Linus went back to the cottage. And every subsequent night, he’d stand on the front step and say good night to Arthur (after having said good night to the children first). Well, it would have been really awfully familiar to invite himself to – to sleep anywhere else. When he’d only just arrived back, too. And anyway, kissing a man wasn’t a ticket straight to – anyway.

‘As opposed to, um, sharing a room with you, I suppose.’ He managed not to blush like a teenager, thankfully.

‘Ah?’ Arthur said. And then said, ‘I supposed that explains why Lucy insisted on having a sleepover with Sal tonight.’

For some reason, _that_ makes Linus blush. ‘Oh, Christ,’ he muttered, and leaned his forehead on Arthur’s shoulder.

‘Quite!’ Said Arthur cheerfully. ‘I won’t lie, it is a _little_ disconcerting having a six year old suggestively wiggle his eyebrows at you. Even compared to said six year old rotating his head a full 360° degrees earlier this week because he says “it’s faster than turning around”.’

‘A little!’

Arthur’s arms were wrapped around his hips, and they both swayed as Sam crooned on. ‘I must admit, I find the thought quite appealing. Falling asleep next to you. And… _other things_. I thought I might let you bring it up, but now I worry it may have come across as disinterest.’

It never could have, Linus wanted to tell him, not with the way they kissed whenever they said good night. But he had felt, well, presumptuous may be the word. Because despite the month plus change he’d been back on the island, he honestly wasn’t sure what Arthur saw in him, spare tire and all. Of course, Arthur was willing to tell him, at length, and had. But Linus realized he couldn’t make him do all the heavy lifting. And so he decided to believe, and be brave.

Raising his head, he asked into the crook of Arthur’s neck, ‘Stay the night? With me?’

Arthur shivered. ‘I’d love to.’

* * *

Of course, it was more complicated than that. It meant turning off the Victrola, and critically eyeing the bed to see if it could really fit the two of them. And it meant Arthur sitting atop the quilt with his chin in his hand, watching Linus as he brushed his teeth in the bathroom. Weirdly, that was somehow the most intimate part of the evening. The last time he brushed his teeth in front of someone almost certainly happened further in the past than the last time he shared a bed with someone. Which really didn’t bear thinking about.

He did change into his pajamas in the bathroom. He didn’t quite have the guts to do it in front of Arthur. He poked desolately at the gut he _did_ have, but tried not to mope.

When he came out, Arthur was already under the comforter, sitting up against the headboard. ‘I just realized all my clothes are at the house,’ he said when he saw Linus. ‘Does this mean I get to do a, what was it, “walk of shame” in the morning? Is that what the kids are calling it?’

Linus scoffed. ‘We’re not _that_ old.’

‘Speak for yourself, I feel positively ancient.’ He yawned. Linus didn’t know if he’d ever seen him do that before. Then Arthur shimmied to lie down, and held up the edge of the comforter for him. Linus hoped that it wasn’t visible that he steeled himself, a crawled into bed with him.

It was, despite their estimates, quite a snug bed for two. Despite Arthur’s long legs, his feet didn’t stick out, thanks to the oversized quilt. Linus breathed in, and smelled everything he could smell earlier as they danced. Arthur’s soap, conditioner and, and _him_ , that warmth that always followed him, kindling him from the inside-out. It all felt closer, under the comforter. He put his arm over Arthur’s side, and Arthur did the same. Their legs tangled together.

‘Hello,’ he breathed, face to face with this lovely man.

‘Hello, dear Linus.’ It was anyone’s guess who leaned in for a kiss after that. It was only a couple, because they were in fact both quite sleepy. Linus wasn’t sure which one of them fell asleep first, but this close, it hardly mattered.

* * *

The sun woke him up before his alarm clock. It did, sometimes, in the morning. Usually he turned over and went back to sleep. _This_ time, what woke him up further was feeling someone pressed against him. Opening his eyes, he saw the back of Arthur’s head, hair in as much of a disarray as it had ever been. He blinked, and without thinking, buried his face in Arthur’s neck. His arm was still over Arthur’s side, but now Linus was the big spoon. It was maybe the nicest wake-up he’d had in however many years, or possibly decades. Which really didn’t bear thinking about.

Arthur was so warm against him. Linus breathed him in, drew him closer. It was intoxicating, frankly. _He_ was. It might sound awfully dramatic, but if he could stay here all day with him, he’d die happy. As a matter of fact…

‘Say, did you leave the TV remote in your pocket again, or are you just happy to see me?’

Linus shot up with a noise of outrage, and subsequently stuffed his pillow in Arthur’s laughing face. ‘Cheeky,’ he grumbled.

Arthur nudged the pillow out of his face, still laughing, and the sight of him ruffled and happy took Linus’ breath away. He sat there for a second staring dumbly at him, long enough for Arthur to sit up and lean towards him. ‘Good morning, Linus,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ said Linus stupidly. ‘It is.’

Sleepy kisses in the morning were, as it turned out, just as lovely as the evening equivalent.

They both made it to the house in time so the children weren’t up yet, but late enough that Zoe was in the kitchen. Meaning she saw the very dressed Linus and the very under-dressed Arthur (wearing Linus’ coat since it was cold, he’d insisted) come through the front door. The raised eyebrow she sent them was nothing short of scandalized – or pretending to be.

Arthur of course, paid it no mind, saying ‘Good morning, Zoe,’ while Linus festered in his own awkwardness. ‘I better go up and change,’ he added.

‘You _better_ ,’ said Zoe amused. ‘Unless you want Lucy to win whatever bet he has going on with Talia.’

‘Oh, dear,’ said Linus.

‘Well, we can’t be having that,’ said Arthur, amused, and headed up the stairs.

Linus stood there, fidgeting a bit, until he noticed Zoe staring at him. ‘What?’ He said defensively.

‘Nothing,’ she said with a shrug and turned away. ‘It’s just that love is a good look on you, Linus Baker.’

He had no idea what to say to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he helped her get breakfast started, and theirs was a comfortable silence.

* * *

That day, after he got back from the forest (he’d spent the day there with Phee and Zoe) Lucy stomped up to him as soon as lessons were over. ‘You _promised_ we’d listen to them!’ He accused. ‘You _also_ promised you’d dance with me, when you came back, and you haven’t yet!’

‘I did promise that,’ Linus responded gravely. ‘I suppose I must honor it.’

Lucy’s eyes sparked. Literally. ‘Race you to the cottage!’

He won, although Linus had a longer stride and his stamina had improved significantly since moving to the island. Granted, Lucy cheated by surfing on the shadows between the trees, which groaned and wailed as they passed him between them like a beach ball. Depositing him on the front porch they sank back to pool around the trees, looking exactly as normal as they ought. Linus still eyed them warily as he passed them.

He didn’t chide Lucy as the boy entered the cottage, shoes on, and levitated every single record out of their box to circle round him like a school of fish. It was harmless, and it made it easier to read them all at once.

‘You’ve got the King in here!’ Lucy exclaimed, reaching out for one. ‘J-Bone got me a couple of his records but I don’t have any of _these_!’

‘Pick one,’ Linus suggested. Lucy did, and with surprising care removed it from the sleeve before setting it on the Victrola and placing the needle on its A-side.

There was a brief second of empty silence. Then, Elvis’ sonorous voice proclaimed that, you look like an angel, talk like an angel, walk like an angel. But I got wise, you’re the devil in disguise, oh yes you are.

Linus gave Lucy a severe look, trying not to grin, and Lucy laughed, before pulling him out on the floor to dance with him, records swirling around them like they were in the eye of a hurricane. Lucy danced with all of the verve and energy of the spawn of Satan, or perhaps just that of a six year old. _He_ wasn’t self-conscious at all – children mostly weren’t unless someone had told them they ought to be. Linus wondered when he lost that ability. He did his best anyway, until he glanced up and saw Sal huddling in the doorway. Usually, you need at least two people to huddle, but Sal somehow managed to huddle all by himself. Lucy noticed him too, and the hurricane of records opened up to let his brother in. ‘Sal! Dance with us!’ He crowed.

Sal fidgeted. ‘I, um.’

‘Come oooon, it’s Elvis!’

‘I don’t know how to dance,’ Sal muttered just loud enough to be heard.

Lucy frowned. ‘Know? What’s there to know? It’s just dancing.’

‘Come on Sal,’ said Linus. ‘There’s no possible way you could do a worse job than me!’

And, looking as if he were fighting his own knees every step of the way, Sal inched towards them. Lucy cheered for him, and clapped his hands to the chorus. Seeing how uncomfortable the boy looked, Linus did a few exaggerated and ridiculous steps on purpose. It was enough to startle a laugh out of Sal. He accepted his brother’s hand, and danced with him to the end of the song, and the next. It ended with the two of them literally just spinning each other in a circle until they were likely to be sick. They both sat down heavily on the floor, heads spinning when it was done. But, even then they kept giggling. Linus shook his head at them indulgently.

‘See?’ Said Lucy once he was no longer about to pass out. ‘I told you! It’s only dancing! You’re not supposed to be _good_ at it.’ He paused. ‘Although, if you were, I would definitely be the best dancer this world has ever seen. But you’d be number two!’

‘Yeah,’ said Sal, scratching his nose shyly. ‘Thanks.’

‘What about me?’ Asked Linus, mock-outraged.

‘Oh, Linus,’ said Lucy, shaking his head. ‘You don’t even rank.’

That might have hurt, sometime in the past, coming from anyone else, but now Linus just laughed.

* * *

After dinner that day, Arthur disappeared into the garden while the children flocked upstairs to enjoy free time before bed. Zoe went back to her house – Linus got a feeling she, or just sprites in general, just needed to be alone sometimes. Hearing the children run around on the second floor, and watching Theodore disappear under the couch to inspect his hoard, Linus knew he was currently superfluous. So he went out into the garden as well, to look for Arthur.

He wasn’t there, but an orange light through the trees lead Linus to the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea. The phoenix took his breath away, now as ever, as he stretched out fiery wings. He heard Arthur give a deep sigh, and twist his neck with a crack. He wondered what it took out of him, to keep himself contained all day long.

Arthur beat his wings a couple of times, and the sea breeze ruffled the feathers much like it would have real ones. And yet the flames flickered just like a regular fire at the same time. Linus was so entranced by them that he didn’t snap out of it until a small, inadvertent, “ _Wow_ ,” left his lips.

The change in Arthur was so immediate that it was almost shocking. The sudden tension in his shoulders was especially obvious with his wings on full display. They folded up as if to protect himself, and he glanced back looking… fearful.

Linus, standing at the edge of the tree line, felt like a complete tool. ‘Sorry! I’m – sorry…’ He finished lamely.

Arthur, having seen it was only him, relaxed. It struck Linus for the first time how intentional it was – how intentional many of Arthur’s movements were. Not that they weren’t genuine. But maybe there was, occasionally, a wall between Arthur’s natural delight for the world, and his expressing it. One put up after years and years of punishment. And, he had to assume, dismantled just the same, piece by piece, with a great deal of care and effort.

‘Ah, Linus,’ Arthur said, and his wings opened up again. ‘Did you need something?’

Linus shook his head. ‘No. I can, um, go away if you like?’

‘I would like nothing less, my dear man.’ His body language opened up more, wings spreading as if to invite Linus to come closer. Linus did.

Walking up next to Arthur, he felt the heat of the fire. Not quite as intense as if the sun had come down to earth, but like a steady hearth. The air around them was hot, despite the wind coming off the sea. Arthur gave him a smile that was just as warm, but a little tired around the edges. ‘I just needed to stretch a little,’ he said by way of explanation. Linus wanted to say that he didn’t _need_ to explain – but then again he did want to understand.

‘Does it… hurt? To keep them hidden away?’ He asked.

‘Oh, no. But it can get… stifling.’

‘You don’t have to anymore,’ said Linus. ‘I’m pretty sure the children have figured it out.’ Actually, he was certain, by virtue of Lucy telling him, but he didn’t want to shock Arthur.

Arthur blinked, surprised. ‘They are clever. I suppose they might have.’ He gazed down at Linus. ‘And what about DICOMY?’

‘If they don’t mind their own business, I’ll tell them to bugger off,’ said Linus easily.

Arthur burst out laughing. ‘I expect you would.’ His expression changed, and he sighed. ‘It’s… a habit. Forgive me if it takes a while to break it.’

‘Of course,’ said Linus. ‘You’ve put up with far worse from me.’

Arthur smiled at him again, which did funny things to Linus’ insides. ‘Can we sit here, for a while? It’s been… a long day.’

They sat down, legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. Linus was not afraid of heights. But it might have made his stomach flipflop a bit regardless, if it hadn’t been busy flipflopping over something else entirely. Arthur wrapped one wing around Linus, and leaned his head on his shoulder with a sigh. The fire should have burned him, but instead it felt like walking into a warm house after being outside on a frosty day. Linus put his arm around Arthur’s shoulders, and pulled him closer. ‘Tough day? I was with Zoe and Phee in the forest until the afternoon. Did I miss something?’

‘No… Some days are just longer than others,’ said Arthur, and paused. Then, ‘As much as I wouldn’t want to do anything else, sometimes I wonder if I am… up to the task of raising these children.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Linus. Then he backtracked. ‘Oh dear – I didn’t mean to mock your worries. It’s just, I can’t think of a single place in the world they would be better off, than with you, Arthur.’

‘What about with their blood families?’ Said Arthur. ‘I know that’s not possible for most of them, but in a couple of cases…’

‘Well, Lucy’s father by blood is Satan, so I think we can safely say that you’re the better choice,’ said Linus dryly.

‘Phee has other family, though,’ said Arthur. ‘Her mother died, but she had extended family who simply weren’t able to take care of her. They had been driven away from their forest and disenfranchised to the point of abject poverty.’

Linus paused. ‘I know. And it was unjust. But you know that terrible as it is, I’m sure they’d be happier that Phee was with someone who would care for her, rather than one of DICOMY’s schools, or at a mismanaged home. And you know better than most that family has little to do with who is related to you by blood.’

‘I suppose…’

‘You know, that doesn’t have to be the end of it,’ Linus said, suddenly invigorated. ‘We could find them, get in touch, see if they want to see Phee again. If she wants to see them. I know Zoe wouldn’t like to have another adult sprite in her territory, but worst case scenario they could meet in the village.’ His mind drifted away, already considering the logistics. He came back when he noticed the way Arthur was looking at him. ‘What?’

‘You’re a sweetheart, you know,’ said Arthur. ‘I’d wondered the same thing, before you arrived, but I didn’t dare to, with DICOMY watching our every move. They don’t like to see sprites moving outside their registered locations.’

‘They’ll have to, if I file a no. 34C Travel Permit,’ said Linus stoutly. ‘And you said memorizing the Rules and Regulations was useless!’

‘I don’t think I did, but consider me corrected none the less,’ replied Arthur with a grin. He leaned against Linus again, but he seemed significantly less downtrodden than before. Linus brought the hand he had over Arthur’s shoulder to run it through the man’s hair. Arthur seemed to appreciate it, very much so in fact. He sighed, sounding pleased this time. And when Linus experimentally scratched his scalp he went completely limp. ‘Ooh, that’s nice. Do more of that, please.’

‘You know, for a bird, you sure do have some cat-like attributes,’ Linus teased.

‘ _Mmm, yes_ …’

Linus chuckled, and kept scratching his scalp, until any tension Arthur might ever have had seemed to have flown away on the wind. Which made him wonder…

‘Can you actually fly?’

Arthur blinked, as if waking up. ‘Yes. I haven’t done it much, though. It’s a little conspicuous, no matter where you are. Fire tends to show up against the sky.’

‘Hm.’ The sun had gone down now, but he wasn’t cold, wrapped up in Arthur’s wings. Then he said, ‘You know, it’s fine if you want to be by yourself sometimes. But… you don’t have to put your wings away around me if you don’t want to. Especially not if it’s stifling.’

Arthur was silent a moment, then asked, ‘Truly?’

‘Of course.’

Arthur was silent a moment longer. ‘I thought as much, you know, but he – Charles – he didn’t like to see them. I always got the sense that they frightened him.’

Not for the first time, Linus Baker wished he’d taken the time to sock Charles Warner in the jaw the last time he’d been up before Extremely Upper Management. But what he blurted out instead was, ‘But – but you’re beautiful!’ He blushed when Arthur stared at him a moment longer than was comfortable. ‘What?’

‘Just the way you said it,’ said Arthur. ‘You said, “you”. Not “they”. You didn’t pretend that my wings were somehow separate from me.’

‘Well, they aren’t!’

‘No. No, they’re not.’ Arthur kissed him on the nose. ‘You’re an awfully wonderful man, you know.’

‘Erm. Thanks. You too.’ Linus wondered if he would ever stop being flustered whenever Arthur said such things to him, and decided that no, probably not. If only he could return the favor one of these days…

Arthur got up, and held out a hand to help Linus up. He didn’t let go once they were both on their feet, walking back towards the house. As they approached the garden, he let his wings fold back in on themselves with a deep breath, and suddenly they were gone as if they’d never been there. But Linus could still feel the warmth.

When they were on the steps up to the front door, and Linus’ instinct was to leave for the cottage, Arthur tugged him closer. ‘Stay with me tonight?’ He asked quietly.

Linus was tongue-tied for a second, before replying, ‘At least let me get my pajamas!’

Arthur chuckled. ‘Very well. Help me put the children to bed?’

‘Of course.’

He took care of Talia, Theodore, and Chauncy, who spent almost five minutes having a toothbrush race in front of the sink before he could usher them into their rooms. At least their teeth were very clean. When he’d said good night to all of them, not just those three, he went and fetched his pajamas from the cottage. Then he went to Arthur’s room. To his eternal despair, Lucy was there, pulling out fresh sleep pants and a shirt from a drawer. He looked up at Linus when he entered, his eyes narrowing. ‘Didn’t you already – oh. Are you sleeping with Arthur now?’

Linus managed to affect an unembarrassed tone of voice. ‘Yes.’

‘Huh. You know, I can go sleep over with Chauncy if you want to have sex.’

Linus spluttered for an extended period of time, until Arthur said from behind him, in that completely unaffected way of his, ‘We’re not going to have sex, Lucy, now go brush your teeth.’

‘Oh. You sure? Because Linus seems stressed and it’s supposed to be good for your brain chemistry.’

Linus wished he could dig a hole and bury himself alive. Maybe if he went over to Talia’s room he could borrow her shovel.

From Arthur’s tone he seemed to be trying not to laugh. ‘I’m quite sure, Lucy. Now, stop trying to embarrass him and finish getting ready for bed.’

‘Okay!’ Lucy shrugged into his pajamas with impressive speed and then ran to the bathroom.

‘He’s going to be the death of me,’ muttered Linus, still positively glowing red with embarrassment.

‘I’m sure he won’t,’ said Arthur, coming to stand in front of him. ‘You know what he’s like. Not falling for his hijinks is the quickest way to get him back on track.’ He kissed Linus. ‘Now get dressed for bed, before he comes back to tease you.’

Linus muttered his outrage, his “why I never”s and “see now!”s, but he did as he was told. He was buttoning up his shirt when Lucy came back, some toothpaste on his chin. Lucy squinted up at him. ‘Are those your initials?’ He asked, pointing at the monogram on the breast pocket.

‘Yes.’

Lucy blinked. ‘Cool.’

Linus’ brain screeched to a halt. ‘…Cool?’

‘Yeah! That’s _fancy_. Do you think _I_ could have my name on my pj’s?’

‘I… Don’t see why not?’

Lucy nodded. Then, ‘Tuck me in!’ He demanded.

Linus did, wiping that toothpaste of his chin as he went. Lucy went down surprisingly quietly. When he’d gone to sleep, Linus returned to Arthur’s room, where Arthur was just pulling his sleep shirt over his head. Linus felt his ears blush a little as he spied more of Arthur’s bare torso than he’d ever seen before. ‘I thought you might join me downstairs for tea,’ Arthur said, straightening out his shirt. ‘It _is_ quite early for adults to go to sleep, really. I’ve just gotten used to getting ready for bed at the same time as the children.’

Linus thought so, too, and so they went and sat together on the couch in the living room, mugs of tea in hand. It was quiet, and close, and warm, and (Linus thought) quite possibly the most wonderful thing in the world.

* * *

Linus was woken the next morning by the door to Arthur’s room banging open and Talia shouting, ‘Lucy! You are needed in the war room _immediately!_ ’ Then, in normal tones, ‘Good morning, Arthur!’

‘Good morning, Talia. Now, what did I say about startling people awake unless it was an emergency?’ Came Arthur’s voice, sounding only a little groggy.

‘But this _is_ an emergency! _Lucy!_ Come _on!_ ’

Now it was the door to Lucy’s bedroom that banged open. The boy exited, wearing a French general’s hat Linus had _no_ idea he had, and with his hand tucked inside his night shirt like Napoleon. ‘I’m awake,’ he said. ‘Good morning Arthur, good morning Linus!’

‘Lucy,’ said Linus between gritted teeth, pressing his pillow into his face. His heartbeat was just starting to slow down from racing. ‘Just _what_ is this emergency?’

‘Linus?’ Talia squinted, seemingly only now noticing that he was lying next to Arthur. ‘When did you – oh, it doesn’t matter! It’s about Sal’s birthday present! We’ve called an emergency meeting in the war room –‘

‘The downstairs bathroom,’ Arthur whispered to Linus.

‘-because he keeps saying he doesn’t want anything! And there is no _way_ we’re letting him have his birthday without presents!’

Just then, Chauncy appeared at Talia’s elbow, and Theodore’s snout appeared over the top of the bed as he started crawling up the side of the mattress. ‘Good morning Arthur,’ Chauncy warbled. ‘Wait, is that you, Linus? Does that mean I should bring your laundry up here and not the cottage?’

‘Chauncy, focus!’ Crowed Lucy. ‘We have a total disaster on our hands! It’s only a few days until Sal’s birthday!’

‘Right!’ Chauncy wobbled a decisive nod, and likely was diverted from pestering Linus for a tip for the time being.

‘Children, if you want to finish your meeting before breakfast- and, more importantly, before Sal hears you, you should get going,’ said Arthur. Theodore, who had been climbing up his arm to his shoulder, trilled. Then he spread his wings and soared down to the floor, only tripping over them a little bit as he landed.

‘He’s right!’ Exclaimed Talia. ‘Come on, Phee has already set up the corkboard!’ Then, with exaggerated stealth, the children scouted up and down the corridor, before shuffling along the walls and down the stairs like secret agents.

When they had all finally left the room, Linus rolled over with a groan, and pressed his face into his pillow. ‘We have too many children,’ he complained to Arthur. There was a chuckle, and he glanced up in utter betrayal. Arthur was lying on his side, head propped up on his palm, watching him with a strange but delighted expression on his face. ‘What?’

‘You really mean that?’

Linus blinked. ‘No, of course not, I just would prefer not being shouted awake like that.’ He considered this. ‘Although I have to question my sanity for going from taking care of zero children, to six.’

‘Not that,’ said Arthur. ‘You said ‘we.’ _Our_ children.’ His eyes, utterly focused on Linus, were like flame.

Linus’ own eyes widened, and he hurriedly rolled over on his back and sat up half way, pushing up on his elbows. ‘I – that is to say – I just – ‘He cleared his throat, but managed to look Arthur in the eye. ‘If that’s alright with you.’

‘Alright?’ Arthur leaned over, elbows bracketing in Linus’ shoulders, pushing him back down onto the pillow, his face hovering over Linus’. ‘Alright?’ He said again, and kissed him. And again, and again. He only stopped when there was the sound of footsteps in the hallway and the distant sound of Sal calling for his siblings, telling them they were going to be late for breakfast. Linus, though, pulled him immediately back down for another kiss and Arthur went, gladly.

They were both more than a little ruffled by the time they stumbled out of bed and into getting dressed. Linus caught Arthur by the wrist just before he was about to exit the room. ‘Ours,’ he said quietly, searching Arthur’s face.

Arthur broke into a smile of such delight that Linus had to check if his wings had suddenly appeared. ‘Ours.’ He replied.

* * *

Meals could be strained, sometimes. Not the conversation, or the atmosphere. It was just that everyone kept nudging various food items that weren’t salad towards Linus’ plate. They usually didn’t say anything, but the message was clear. Zoe, at the start, had made a few jests that he must dislike her cooking, but seemed to have given up. Arthur was silent on the matter, always.

Talia remained persistent.

‘The baked potatoesh are sho _good,_ ’ she said through a mouthful, to Zoe. ‘Ish that garlic butter?’ She swallowed.

‘It sure is,’ said Zoe. ‘Me and Phee picked wild garlic in the forest, and Sal helped me make it.’

‘Geniush,’ said Talia through another mouthful of potato. ‘Linush, you’ve gotta try thish.’

‘No thank you,’ said Linus automatically. ‘I’m quite fine.’

She swallowed. ‘And you will be _better_ when you try these potatoes. C’mon.’

‘I’m trying to cut down on the carbs,’ Linus said, chasing a cherry tomato around his plate with a fork.

Phee gave him a side-eye from the other side of the table. ‘Yeah, apparently you’ve cut them into such tiny pieces they’re completely invisible. And all the proteins and the fats too.’

‘Have you been a rabbit this whole time, Linus?’ Asked Lucy. ‘Legally you have to tell us.’ Zoe chuckled, Arthur hid a smile.

‘No, I –‘

‘Why do you only eat rabbit food, then?’ Talia asked. ‘You don’t have lagomorphs guts! You can’t get all the necessary stuff from it. Rabbits have to like, eat their own poop to digest it properly –‘

‘Gross!’ Exclaimed Phee delightedly, and Theodore chirped agreement.

‘Yeah, and sometimes they gnaw on _bones_ , to get necessary minerals –‘

‘Do you think I would get taller if I gnawed bones?’ Lucy wondered out loud. ‘That seems much more interesting than taking vitamins.’

‘We could find out,’ Talia said. ‘If Linus ever actually let us dig up that graveyard –‘

‘No-one is digging up the graveyard,’ said Linus wearily, wondering how many times more he would have to say it. ‘In any case, you don’t have the proper teeth to gnaw on bones, Lucy. You’re only going to have one set once your adult teeth grow in, and they don’t grow indefinitely like rabbits do.’

‘How do you know all that?’ Asked Sal. His seat was still on the other side of the table from Linus’ seat, but unlike when Linus first arrived, he no longer used that as an excuse not to speak to him.

‘We kept rabbits when I was little.’ Most people had, when he was young, to supplement meager salaries. Even in the city. Chickens, too, and a vegetable garden.

‘I _could_ make my teeth grow indefinitely,’ Lucy said. ‘If I wanted to.’

‘Not until you’ve finished your dinner,’ said Arthur. ‘And helped with the dishes.’

Lucy sighed. ‘O _kay._ ’

The conversation ended there, turning instead to the children pestering Sal about whether he knew what he wanted to do on his birthday, and Sal evading their questions. But Talia still pointedly skewered a potato and, without looking his way, deposited on Linus’ plate.

Linus did his bit in cleaning up after dinner, and chatted with Zoe about Helen’s upcoming visit next week. Then, he went out on the porch, and breathed in the night air. Above him, the lights turned on in the children’s bedroom windows. It had rained earlier that day; the lights reflected in the puddles on the drive. As he stood there, leaning on the railing, it began to drizzle. He found he didn’t mind. How strange, that. He’d found rain so dreary back in the city, but out here it was simply beautiful.

A moment later, a pair of arms wrapped around his torso from behind, and a chin leaned against his shoulder. Linus grinned. ‘Hello, Arthur.’

‘You know Talia’s intentions weren’t unkind,’ Arthur said quietly.

Linus found the frown that had been trying to break out on his face for the last half hour emerge. ‘I’m sure,’ he said stiffly. ‘I can’t imagine why she doesn’t let it go, though.’

‘I can, and to be frank, I’m inclined to agree with her.’

Linus sighed. ‘I _am_ dieting for health reasons, you know.’

‘There is watching what you eat,’ said Arthur in his ear. ‘And there is eating only lettuce, and feeling guilty whenever you eat anything else.’

Linus sputtered. ‘Well, tough luck, it’s my body, and I get to decide what I eat!’

‘I know you do,’ said Arthur. ‘But you also have to think about what it looks like to the children, who look up to you.’ There was a silence. ‘Would you like it if Talia felt the same way as you do about food?’

Linus’ stomach soured. ‘That’s different, she’s growing.’

‘And what about when she has grown up?’

‘…No.’

Arthur’s voice is far from harsh; it is patient and kind. ‘Then, you realize that when you say unkind things about your own body, she might internalize them in terms of her own?’

Linus’ stomach felt even worse now. ‘I… suppose…’ Damn, Arthur _was_ right – he _didn’t_ want Talia or any of the children to feel like the way they looked was a bad thing. And he really hadn’t meant to. It was just that for most of them, their difference was a tad bit more obvious than their weight. So that had ended up flying under his radar.

And he recalled, with a start, being ten years old, and his mother frowning at her own image in the mirror, at weight gained and lost and gained and lost and gained back. Of her saying to her friends things like, _I really ought to cut down the chocolate, I just can’t seem to get back to my normal weight._ And some family friend, whose face and name Linus had long forgotten, gently asking if that was perhaps just because “normal” was relative and in any case changed as people got older. He didn’t think she’d ever believed it, though.

She hadn’t meant to pass that mindset on to him, might even have been appalled to find out that she had. But it had happened, none the less.

‘…I’ve been a real idiot, haven’t I?’ Linus wondered out loud.

Arthur huffed, breath blowing across Linus’ cheek. ‘An idiot? No, just putting your self-worth in the wrong places. But please, enough with the salads. You’re a grown man, you need more than that to function. It’s not healthy.’ His arms around Linus tightened. ‘And I don’t like watching you punish yourself.’

‘It’s not that I don’t believe you when you say you don’t mind the things I dislike about myself,’ admitted Linus. ‘I just can’t understand _why_.’

‘Well, tough luck, Linus Baker. Part and parcel of you accepting and loving us, is that you’re going to have to deal with us accepting and loving _you_ back.’

Linus squirmed. Arthur laughed, low in his ear.

‘Also, I don’t just ‘not mind’ the things you dislike about your body. I plainly _like_ them. I distinctly remember telling you that before.’

‘But _why_?’ Asked Linus, honestly bewildered.

‘Why wouldn’t I?’ Arthur’s mouth brushed against his throat, and Linus shivered. ‘Every inch of you, I like.’

‘Even the gut?’ Asked Linus, disbelievingly.

A hand snuck up the front of his shirt, and Arthur’s teasing voice said, ‘Well, they do call them love handles for a reason, Linus…’

Linus squeaked, which was _completely_ undignified of him, and he couldn’t even pretend it was because Arthur’s hands were cold. Arthur’s hands were always warm, like the rest of him. ‘ _Arthur!_ ’ he hissed, outraged. Or, pretending to be.

Arthur chuckled into the crook of his neck. Linus tried to act put-out, but it became really quite difficult when Arthur pressed a kiss against his throat. ‘You are an awfully beautiful man, Linus Baker. It would be entirely remiss of me not to acknowledge it.’

Not for the first time, Linus wished he could match him for charm. ‘It would serve you right if I stayed in the cottage tonight,’ he said half-heartedly.

‘Will you?’

‘No. It’s getting quite cold at night, and you’re like a personal radiator. Be prepared for Calliope to migrate to your room, though. And possibly onto your pillow.’

Arthur laughed. ‘A sacrifice I am willing to make.’

* * *

Arthur’s office was theirs, now. Linus used the second desk they’d found in the attic mostly to compile the report he intended to use to expose DICOMY. And to file the necessary forms to request the funding Marsyas Orphanage (misnomer or not, that was still what it said on their address) was entitled to. Not only that, but also the back-payments for the last year. He was amazingly thorough, and he knew the clerks at the office would not be able to find a single fault in the forms he filed. With that funding, they would be able to further renovate the house and make room in case more children came to live there. Linus was certainly not about to let DICOMY get away with further negligence. Especially after all their attempts at manipulating him.

A knock on the open door caused him to look up. ‘Sal? Come in.’

The boy, still growing larger than his age, set his shoulders and entered the office.

‘Are classes already over?’ Linus asked, and blanched when he looked at his watch. He hadn’t realized how focused he had been on his work. ‘Well! I guess that answers that. Do you need something?’

Sal avoided his eyes. But in a way that said he was mildly nervous and a little embarrassed rather than anxious, which was good. He had his hand wrapped around his opposing elbow, and the fingers were tapping like that of a particularly energetic trombonist. ‘Um. I know what I want to do on my birthday,’ he said – _said_ , not muttered.

Linus listened attentively, and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. ‘That sounds like a very good idea, Sal,’ he said. ‘Let’s tell the others so we can get it ready in time for tomorrow, shall we?’

* * *

It was the Saturday night, the day before Sal’s birthday. Linus was in the kitchen, alone. The children, there being six of them, all took turns throughout the week to help the adults make dinner. But they had Saturday nights off, free to do what they pleased. Zoe had seemed bemused when he’d exiled her from the kitchen. She was usually involved in making dinner more nights than she wasn’t. But she didn’t seem to mind the free time. Linus had commandeered the record player too, playing his way through Sinatra, Fitzgerald and, of course, Bobby Darrin. The current vinyl spinning on the side table was Elvis. As Linus stirred the mince lamb and sauce, the King transitioned from Jailhouse Rock to Suspicious Minds, warning him that they were caught in a trap.

‘Should I be worried?’ Asked a lilting voice from the doorway. Linus looked up to find Arthur grinning at him, nodding to the record player.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Linus snorted at him. ‘Here, come try this. I can’t decide if it needs more cinnamon.’

‘Your wish is my command.’ His tone said that it was only a joke, but Linus tried not to show how those words had made him shiver a bit. He accepted the spoonful Linus fed him, and squinted at the ceiling. ‘Maybe just a pinch more, although I don’t have much basis for comparison. Is that moussaka you are making?’

Linus nodded. ‘I hadn’t made it in, oh my, must be a few years now.’ He searched the spice cabinet for allspice, and added more, along with the barest sliver of cinnamon. ‘It used to be my favourite, growing up.’

‘Your mother liked to make it?’

‘Not really. I did, once I learned to cook. Around, oh, when I was thirteen. After that, I would cook all the time, so she wouldn’t have to once she got home from work.’ He stirs the pan, and checks the white sauce in the pot next to it.

‘Did she often work late?’ Arthur leaned back against the counter next to him. Linus got the feeling he was asking more than just that.

Linus shrugged. ‘She didn’t like to, but she was taking care of me by herself. I helped out where I could. But I thought I might share something from those days with you all. And prove to you that I actually know how to cook something that isn’t lettuce,’ he joked.

Arthur smiled at him in a way that did funny things to his insides. ‘Well. Aren’t _you_ the complete package.’ It _should_ have sounded derisive, not flirtatious, but it did. Linus coughed and turned away under the guise of rifling through the fridge. Based on Arthur’s chuckle, he hadn’t fooled him. Just once, he thought, he would like to be the one to fluster Arthur, rather than be fluster _ed_. It couldn’t be good for him (never mind his blood pressure) for his heart to go all ridiculous at the merest provocation. 

He conceded to let Arthur help with the salad, ironically enough, even if he had meant to make dinner without any help. Besides, it was nice to have him there, humming along to Mr. Presley as the two of them worked. Linus was just putting the fully assembled moussaka into the oven (he preferred potato to eggplant), when the record switched over to the next song: Elvis crooning about a place called the Heartbreak Hotel.

‘Well, that’s just depressing,’ he commented, conveniently forgetting every time he’d sung along to it back in the city. He went over to the record player to skip the song. The A-side had ran out, so he turned it over to the B-side. He was about to set the needle down, when a title caught his eye. Feeling uncharacteristically mischievous, he set down the needle on the third track instead of the first. There were a couple of seconds of busy noise as the previous song tapered off. Then, Elvis crackled to life again.

It didn’t take long. Arthur hummed along for a second, chopping tomatoes. Then his head shot up in attention, just as the record proclaimed that, You’re gonna set me on fire, my brain is flaming, I don’t know which way to go – and et cetera.

Arthur’s gaze zeroed in on Linus, who stood next to the record player with his eyebrows raised as if to say, “Eh? _Eeh?_ ”

Arthur rolled his eyes in exasperation. Then, wonder of all wonders, as Elvis sang on about lighting the morning sky with burning love, the very tips of his ears began to blush. Linus watched in absolute delight, as it migrated down, and spread across the bridge of his cheekbones to his nose. It looked terribly fetching, and Arthur looked absolutely mortified by it. He abruptly turned back to his chopping. ‘You’re completely ridiculous,’ he muttered.

Linus, however, was not willing to give up his victory yet. Reaching him in two strides, he pushed down the hand that held the knife. ‘Dance with me, Arthur?’ He asked, trying not to grin.

‘I am terribly busy right now, as you can see –‘

‘Very well, then,’ said Linus primly. ‘As head chef of the evening, you are hereby discharged from your duties – to dance with me.’

Arthur sent him a look that said he would be in _so_ much trouble, presumably, once Arthur could think of any real reason to be mad at him. But he did let himself get dragged out on the floor and, rather reluctantly, danced.

‘You are banned from making dad jokes,’ he informed Linus as the song wound to a close. ‘You are bound to be a bad influence on the children, it’s for their own good.’

‘I am sure I don’t know what you mean,’ Linus said cheerfully. ‘Would you prefer if I switched the record over to Ella Fitzgerald? I do love that song, “Fever.” How does that one go again?’ He started humming. ‘“What a lovely way to burn –“’

‘Stop it.’

‘But Arthur, you must know at this point that I’m carrying a torch for you – ‘

‘ _Stop it._ ’

Linus burst out laughing at his attempting-to-be-longsuffering but really quite embarrassed expression. Arthur scowled at him. ‘You’re terrible.’

‘Oh, please,’ said Linus, stepping closer. ‘As if you don’t send me aflutter at least twice a day before lunchtime.’ That was unfair, he knew. That just meant he’d had practice. He took another step, crowding Arthur up against the counter.

‘Yes, well.’ Said Arthur, and then had nothing to add. Linus could see his pulse jump in his throat. He stepped forward again, putting his hands on the counter on either side of Arthur. Arthur visibly swallowed, and his eyes were really quite dark. Linus leaned in and kissed him, slow and promising – and then, promising and hungry. Arthur grasped for his hips, pulling him closer, making a soft _Umf_ noise as he did. What little there was of Linus that was doing any active thinking, thought that he would like to hear that sound again.

‘…I guess I’ll come back later, then.’

The kiss broke. Linus, mercifully too annoyed to be embarrassed, leaned his forehead against Arthur’s chest with a groan. ‘Zoe, we _have_ to talk about your timing.’

‘This is the _kitchen_ , what am I supposed to do?’ Despite her ire, she seemed to find it funny.

‘Never _mind_ ,’ Linus said, stepping back from Arthur, who looked oddly thunderstruck. His hair was more ruffled than usual, and his face was flushed. ‘The timer was about to go off anyway.’ He opened the oven a crack to check on the moussaka. ‘Better call the children down for dinner. Arthur, will you set the table.’

Arthur blinked. ‘Um. Right.’

Zoe chortled. They heard the doors swing as she left to go upstairs. The table was laid, the dinner served, the children filing in chattering among themselves. There were several compliments directed towards Linus, which made him feel quite close to luminous. Maybe especially when Talia took a bite, her eyes widening. ‘This has _potatoes_ in it!’

‘It sure does,’ said Linus cheerfully.

Her expression was strange, mixed between glee, while also trying to make it seem as if it was no big deal. Solemnly, she handed him a knife, although he already had one.

‘What do I need this for?’ He asked.

‘Now you can cut down your carbs all you like,’ she said, mouth twitching.

Zoe snorted, and those at the table that noticed either laughed or rolled their eyes. Arthur, meanwhile, pinched his brow. ‘God, there’s two of you,’ Linus heard him mutter under his breath.

It was a good evening. Even compared to how good most evenings were on Marsyas Island. But Linus did not miss how Arthur kept glancing his way, all throughout the meal.

* * *

There was something different about going to bed, that night. Arthur followed him to the cottage, and hurriedly shut the door behind them as the late November wind chased them inside. They kicked off their shoes, and Linus distractedly removed and hung his coat. Then, they were standing in the hallway in the dark, in the silence, not saying a word but looking at each other all the same.

Arthur’s brown eyes were so warm in a way that had nothing to do with fire, and Linus stepped closer so that his shoulder bumped into Arthur’s. And Linus put his arms around Arthur’s neck, and Arthur wrapped his arms around Linus’ waist. And Linus kissed his nose and the freckle under his eye, and Arthur kissed that spot beneath his ear that made him shiver a bit. If Linus didn’t know better, he’d swear Ella Fitzgerald was playing somewhere, telling him to dream a little dream.

And Arthur leaned back and looked him in the eye and asked, ‘Take me to bed?’

And Linus said, ‘Yes.’

* * *

The next evening in the living room, everything was set: The mattresses strewn across the floor in front of the fireplace; the duvets and pillows on top of them; the couch moved so that various chairs could be strategically placed to support a canopy of blankets. Phee had dug around the storage cupboard and found a string of Christmas lights and hung them around the makeshift tent. There were bowls of snacks propped in locations where hopefully they wouldn’t get knocked over and cause an avalanche of crumbs.

Linus surveyed their work with satisfaction. _‘I want to have a sleepover,’_ Sal had said. _‘With everyone. I’ve never had one before_.’ At that moment, Linus had been ready to move Heaven and Earth to give him what he wanted, and he’d seen the same look in Arthur’s eyes when Sal had told him. Happily, scheduling a sleepover was not at all as difficult as all that.

Zoe appeared at his elbow with a pillow under her arm. She was wearing pajamas, with all the style of a dignified sea captain. Appropriately enough, they had a pattern of little anchors on them. ‘Are you sure your old man back will survive sleeping on the floor?’ She asked him.

‘Har-har,’ Linus responded, not mentioning that she was certainly older than him. Sprites didn’t seem to have to worry about the mundane aches of middle age. ‘I think I shall manage, thank you.’

Suddenly, the pile of pillows next to them fountained up, and Lucy appeared, a huge flashlight in his hands. ‘Zoe! You have the first turn!”

‘At what?’

‘We’re telling ghost stories!’ Lucy giggled in a way that would have terrified Linus to his insteps a few months ago. Now it merely made him feel fond – and mildly exasperated. ‘I wanted to go first but then I realized that everyone might get too scared to go on and I wouldn’t get to hear their stories.’ He grinned evilly. ‘So I’m going last.’

‘Clever thinking,’ Zoe replied.

There was the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and they turned to see Sal descending, Arthur behind him. Sal had a stack of presents in his arms – already opened, but he seemed too taken with them to set them aside for too long.

‘Sal! Happy birthday!’ Crowed Lucy.

Sal scoffed. ‘You already said that, eight times.’

‘Yeah, but I gotta make up for all the birthdays I missed!’ Lucy leapt out of the pile to drag Sal by the arm down the stairs, talking a mile a minute about what they had planned for the night. The other children were gathering as well, Talia and Chauncy emerging from the kitchen with more snacks, Theodore crawling out from beneath the couch, Phee coming down the stairs with a precarious pile of even more pillows in her arms.

‘Think we have everything?’ Linus glanced up to find Arthur at his shoulder, between him and Zoe.

‘I do hope so,’ he replied. ‘I don’t think even a very dedicated army could finish all those snacks.’

Arthur’s mouth quirked in a grin. ‘Don’t underestimate them.’

Beside them, Zoe chuckled, and they both looked at her in question. She grinned at them. ‘Did you ever think so much of parenting would include getting to enjoy things you hadn’t since you were a kid yourself?’ She looked back down at the children, who were picking their spots on what by now was basically a nest of comfort. ‘I didn’t.’

‘No, I… don’t think I ever did,’ said Arthur quietly. ‘Let alone so many things I _never_ got to do as a child, at that.’ He blinked when Zoe quietly reached for his hand on the right, and Linus did the same on the left. Then he smiled. ‘No reason to mope, now. Let’s just have a good time, shall we? This is Sal’s day, after all.’

‘Let’s,’ agreed Linus, thinking briefly back to his own childhood. He had had sleepovers, as a kid. A few with classmates, but probably most of them with his mother. Sometimes on Saturday nights, if she wasn’t completely beat after the work week, they’d pull out an air mattress in front of the TV, and watch movies while scarfing down ice cream. She had been, he had realized after becoming an adult himself, far from perfect. But she had done the best she could. With any luck, he’d be able to avoid making the same mistakes as her.

Arthur stepped forward, and clapped his hands. ‘Alright, Sal, what’s first?’

‘Lucy wanted to tell ghost stories,’ Sal replied, Lucy quite literally hanging off of his arm. ‘But I thought maybe a movie first…’

‘Capital!’ Arthur moved over to the TV. ‘Do you have one picked out?’

‘Yeah…’

Linus decided to get comfortable somewhere in the pile, stepping carefully in case one of the children happened to be hidden under the mess of blankets. He’d only just picked a spot when Arthur threw himself down next to him, and Lucy climbed into his lap. ‘Alright?’ Asked Arthur quietly as Theodore dimmed the lights, and the VHS tape flickered to life.

Linus smiled at him. ‘More than alright.’

* * *

Linus jerked awake. In the soft glow, he thought for a moment he was back in his house in the city, having fallen asleep on the couch with the lamp on again. But although he was not lying on a bed, he wasn’t lying on a couch either. Above, he found the canopy of blankets they’d set up for the sleepover, the string light casting a dim glow. It was offset oddly by the static on the TV screen. He blinked, tiredly, wondering when he had fallen asleep. It was then that he noticed there was a weight on his stomach. Glancing down, he saw Talia’s head, her gnomish cap discarded, using him as a pillow. In turn, Theodore was draped across her middle like a scarf. It seemed they were lying diagonally over a couple of mattresses, blankets strewn over them haphazardly. Glancing down further, he saw a couple of legs slung perpendicular across his own, and traced them up to find Zoe, lying in a pile of pillows, snoring softly with her mouth open. Phee was tucked into her right side, curled up small like a cat. Very much like a cat, because on a pillow next to her was Calliope, snoozing in much the same pose. On Zoe’s left side was Chauncy, on a little blow-up mattress more convenient for someone so constantly moist. He had a tentacle curled around Zoe’s wrist, and made a little bubbling sound as he slept.

Still blinking through sleepy eyes, Linus turned his head, and found as he had expected to, that Arthur’s face was pressed into the crook of his neck. Next to _him_ slept Lucy, one hand tightly in Arthur’s sleep shirt as if he feared Arthur might disappear if he didn’t. But his other hand held just as tightly onto Sal’s, who sat propped up against the couch, knees against his chest; the only one awake apart from Linus. His dark eyes wandered around the tent of blankets from one sleeper to the next. When he got to Linus, he gave a small smile.

‘Shouldn’t you go to sleep?’ Linus whispered. Somewhere in the house, he had heard the grandfather clock chime close to midnight.

‘I was memorizing it first,’ Sal said just as quietly.

‘Memorizing what?’

‘All of it.’

Linus thought he knew what he meant. ‘Happy birthday, Sal. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Linus.’

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh I adore this book. Fun fact, there exists a full-length version of that fade-to-black scene between Linus and Arthur. I may or may not post it if there is interest. Hope you enjoyed!


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